Up In Flames
by BizGirlCharlie
Summary: Kane realizes that his past isn't going to escape him, so takes matters into his own hands (minor slash)


Title: Up In Flames 

Author: BizGirlCharlie

Distribution: Angel's Realm website and Yahoo group. All others please ask

Rating: R for adult themes, heavy angst, graphic violence and low level m/m slashy themes. If any of these things are likely to upset/offend you, please don't read it.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property, either past or present, of the WWE and Vince McMahon. I don't even own the computer I used to type this one up. I receive no financial incentives for writing this story and since I live for feedback, I don't need financial incentives anyway!

Characters: Kane, Rob Van Dam, JR, Rosey and mention of several other WWE superstars, past and present.

Plot: Read and find out. All I'll say is that it's based on the Ben Folds Five song 'Smoke' and WWE storylines, up to and including Raw on July 7th, 2003, which is when it's set.

Author's note: This is my first story featuring these two as main characters so I'd really appreciate some reviews. Thanks!!

_Leaf by leaf and page by page _

_Throw this book away. _

_All the sadness, all the rage, _

_Throw this book away. _

_Rip out the binding, and tear the glue. _

_All the grief we never even knew, _

_We had it all along, Now it's, _

_Smoke._

_Here's an evening dark with shame, _

_Throw it on the fire. _

_Here's the time I took the blame, _

_Throw it on the fire. _

_Here is the view we didn't speak, it seemed, for years and years, _

_And here's the secret no-one will ever know. _

_No reasons for the tears, _

_Made of smoke._

_Smoke._

_Smoke._

_Where do all the secrets live, _

_They travel in the air. _

_You can smell them when they burn, _

_Travelling._

_Those who say the past is not dead, _

_Come and smell the smoke. _

_You keep saying the past is not dead, _

_Stop and smell the smoke. _

_You keep on saying the past is not even past, _

_You keep saying, _

_We are smoke. _

_Smoke_

* 'Smoke' by Ben Folds Five. Lyrics used without permission

Day by day he grew, then stopped, then got older, every day older. And for what? So that there could be a time, many repeated days from now, when he could say he'd lived? This wasn't life. What did he have to prove that this was life? Sure, he had a heart that that beat and a brain that ached with the torment, the agony. That was his life. That was his proof. And he didn't want it anymore. It, his life, this hotel, his workmates who laughed or withdrew in fear at the sight of his face, it would go. It would all go, the way of his first memories. Up in flames.

*     *     *     *

How could it be that a man so obvious, so conspicuous had managed to elude him for a week now? Rob's last memory was of Kane's hand, tight on his throat. . .well, it wasn't as though Kane hadn't inadvertently chokeslammed him before during their tag team partnership. But this time. . .this time there'd been malice, malice and intent. Kane had turned.

'But no wonder he turned on you,' Rob thought to himself. 'You were the one who encouraged him to lose the mask. You wanted to take away the only security the guy's had for probably more than twenty-five years. You figured it was all so simple. Just look at Rey Mysterio – the little dude had fought without his mask back in WCW, he put it on and took it off as he pleased. And beneath the mask he looked just like everyone else. Why did you think it'd be the same for Kane? You thought you knew it all, but you know nothing. What the hell made you think you could understand what it feels like to want to hide yourself away from the world, hide your face from everyone who sees? No, you've always been out there – maximum exposure. You have a good face, everyone says so. Has anyone ever had anything bad to say about your face? Oh yeah, what was it? You're too pretty to ever be taken seriously as a fighter. Yeah, that was pretty damn mean. It was nothing, nothing compared with what Kane had been through, even in just the last couple of weeks. And it's your fault he even made  that deal in the first place. No wonder he hates you.'

Rob drew back with a start and all was silent. He looked down again at the words and pictures on the pages of his comic book, a comic book he'd been trying unsuccessfully to read for the past hour or two. His mind was stuck elsewhere. His mind was stuck on Kane.

*     *     *     *

Slowly, reflectively, he turned the pages of his scrapbook, counting off everything, everyone he'd ever cared for. Each page featured a hand-drawn picture or a photo and each image was obscured by a red crayon 'X'. X marks the spot of all he'd loved and lost, of each person he'd called a friend, each member of his family. His mom who'd died in the fire and his dad, who'd lived on to control and destroy his life until he'd barely known what it was like to experience freedom. The puppy he'd found on his way home from school and had tried to care for, only to have it run from him and never return. And then, when he'd lost the power of speech, the canary who'd sung so cheerfully, lifting his spirits. He'd come to visit it one particularly bleak day and found it dead. It too had left him. His brother and Sara. . .so many times Undertaker had proclaimed that nothing was more powerful than blood and yet so many times Kane had been betrayed by this man, this two-faced liar. And Sara. . .so beautiful, so in love with his brother and ordinarily so kind to Kane, but even she'd shied away from having Kane visit the new baby because the mask was too scary. Well, what would the baby have thought of his real face? More faces, more names, more crosses. Katie – the only person through all those years of school who'd cared enough even to speak to him. She'd been the daughter of a local pastor and was too nice, too pretty, too good at everything. The world had loved Katie, but Katie was dead. Kane had killed her. It had been a reflex, drinking too much that night, after overhearing Katie telling her friends of her feelings for Kent Abrams, the captain of the football team and Kane's chief teenage tormentor. By the time Katie came to him wanting to go home because Kent had told her he'd never go out with a frigid church girl, Kane was beyond drunk. But he would've done anything for Katie and so he drove. He drove and he crashed. Katie was killed on impact, but Kane had refused to believe it. He'd pulled her from the car and cradled her in his arms, not knowing what to do. He'd held her and held her until a motorist spotted his car and an ambulance arrived. The doctors told him what he'd already know. Katie was dead. She was dead and he, Kane, had killed her. But he'd never done any of the things Triple H had accused him of, never even imagined those things. Of course, he had the normal feelings – lust, want, need, and he'd felt those things about Katie, but until Tori he'd never even kissed a girl. Tori was even more beautiful than Katie and like Kane, so tormented. She'd needed someone; she'd needed Kane. But all too soon she, like Katie, was gone. X-Pac took her away. X-Pac, who had become like a brother and then, exactly like Kane's real brother, had so viciously betrayed Kane's trust. Where were Tori and X-Pac now? Somewhere far, far away. They could have been dead. They were dead to Kane. Everyone he'd dared to love, dared to trust, gone. 

People had even turned from him recently. Terri. He'd thought she cared for him, but apparently their relationship was nothing more than a ploy to give her more integrity as a journalist. Date the freak, everyone will think you're compassionate. He'd overheard her speaking to Trish.

"So, how's Kane doing?" Trish had asked.

"Oh, you know," Terri replied. "Me and Kane. It's just a thing."

It! A thing! She'd called him that, he'd heard her. And so he'd stopped seeing her, stopped talking to her. She forgot about him easy enough – lately he'd seen her taking an interest in Booker T. So she was another one gone. Another person struck from his life, struck from his scrapbook. There was only one left, just one more page. 

Though he'd had tag team partners before, many times, he'd never been able to trust any of them enough to put them in his scrapbook. As far as he was concerned, they were all like X-Pac – conspiring to finish the job the fire had started, conspiring to destroy him. There was only one who'd managed to gain his trust – and even that had taken months. Rob, who fought like he was a from a kung fu movie but had the face of an angel. Kane should have known better. He should have learned by now that the pretty ones were trouble and not to be trusted under any circumstances. Now Rob had just served to prove that theory right. He was to blame for Kane losing his mask. He was to blame for the actions of the people who turned away in horror at the sight of Kane's face, just as much as the people themselves. Rob was to blame. So now, now, just like all the others, he had to go. 

Moaning quietly to himself, Kane picked up the red crayon.

*     *     *     *

"Thanks dude," Rob nodded, wearing his usual smile. "I'll go see the guy now, make sure he's doing okay. I'll see you later."

"Hold on, Rob," the commanding voice of Jim Ross forced him to look back. JR sighed as Rob waited expectantly. "Kane. . .he's not the same. I don't know, but something there just ain't right."

A confident smile fell onto Rob's lips. "Dude, it's Kane."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," JR nodded. "Just. . .be careful there, Rob. You saw what happened to Austin, Rico and Dreamer tonight."

Rob's face fell. "Austin, yeah, but you can't prove Kane did Tommy and Rico. Tommy's my friend too and I still say it was Evolution. . ."

"But what about what Rico said?" JR argued "He said he saw Kane attack him."

"You're gonna believe Rico now?" Rob asked irritably. "Have you seen that dude lately? With the way he's acting, I don't even think he knows what he's saying."

"Okay, Rob, you care for Kane," JR noted. "But what I'm sayin' is watch your back. That's all."

"Watch my back, I got it," Rob nodded. "But you're right. I do care about Kane. He's my tag team partner and my friend and I'm gonna go see him now. See ya later."

And this time he did walk away, brushing off JR's words more and more with each step.

No wonder Kane had such an inferiority complex, what with all the stuff people were saying about him. Rob could kill Triple H for doing this, by cheating and shattering Kane's fragile self esteem when it had taken Rob months to build it up to the point where Kane was actually showing confidence, in everything he did. But now he was right back to square one, less than square one since his biggest anxiety was now exposed for everyone to see. But the killer of it was that he wasn't that bad a looking guy. True, he was no Rob Van Dam, but there was only one guy who was. And sure, Kane's eyes were sunken into black rings, his face was puffy and uneven and he'd now shaved his head completely bald, but what Rob wouldn't give, even now, just to see him smile.

'Whoa,' Rob thought, coming to an abrupt stop. 'How weird was that?'

More thoughts like that and people would start to think he was gay. And anyway, Kane wasn't like that. Rob had heard about the Tori girl, and had seen that thing with Terri. So even if Rob was interested in Kane – which he wasn't, no way – they could only be friends. Good friends, though. That's if Kane could forgive Rob for making yet another stupid decision, one that for once didn't affect just him. 

He'd brought a peace offering to try and help him earn forgiveness. A Playstation 2, borrowed from the Hurricane along with three of the newer wrestling games. It'd be something different from their endless rounds of Guess Who. After trying to give the Big Red Machine that game of Hungry Hungry Hippos, Rob had finally managed to convince Kane of the hours of innocent fun that could be had when playing board games. It had taken a while, since Kane really didn't like to lose, but once he'd mastered the fundamentals, he absolutely kicked butt at everything. He was particularly good at Guess Who, though, with an amazing memory for names and faces. Half the time Rob could have sworn he didn't even need the game board, that the had the whole thing in his mind. Whatever, he always beat Rob, which didn't bother Rob at all. He had a healthy enough ego that he could handle a board game bruising, especially when it helped build Kane's confidence as a worthwhile person. Worthwhile, he was so worthwhile. He was awesome!

Having reached the right door, Rob shrugged out his shoulders. He knew he had some talking to do, but if anyone could manage to talk their way out of a jam, it was RVD. Smiling at how cool it'd be once Kane forgave him, Rob raised his hand and knocked.

*     *     *    *

Kane heard the knock but refused to acknowledge it. It was probably just some fan who'd discovered that the freak was staying here and wanted to get a real close look. For without his mask, that's what Kane was. A freak, a monster. He'd thought. . .with the mask he'd actually dared to think he was normal. Normal, he could never be normal, never handsome like his brother or beautiful like Rob. He was just a monster, a hideous monster. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Hey Kane, you in there, man?"

Kane's breath stilled. It was Rob. What was he doing here? Hadn't he done enough, forcing Kane to expose his face, his weakness? Physically, Kane was strong, but people like Rob and all the others who filled the pages of his scrapbook sapped all his strength, made him fragile, made him nothing and in an instant, brought everything flooding back. All those memories, shut away, because remembering was too painful and now, now all he could do was remember. Weeks, months, spent in hospital after the fire, having no clue about what had happened, no clue but the physical pain and the hushed whispers of the people at his bedside. And then when he was strong enough to go home, being locked away except for school; and school itself – the hurtful comments. He vowed not to go back, ever, but he'd been made to go, so he sat in the back, his head down. The heartless comments still stung today. People laughed or gasped in terror. Why couldn't they understand that it wasn't funny, that it was Kane's life? Nobody could understand, nobody knew what it was like. 

"Hey Kane! It's Rob. Can you let me in, man?"

  
"Go away, Rob!" Kane shouted back.

"Oh cool, you're there," Rob called. "Can you open the door, dude? I gotta talk to you."

"Go away, Rob."

"Aw, come on, Kane. I know how you must be feeling and. . ."

"You have no idea what I'm feeling, Rob," Kane growled savagely, cutting him off. "You have no idea what it's like to be me. I'm a monster."

"Dude, you're not. Look, I'm sorry about getting you put in that match. I thought it was a good idea, but I guess not, so I'm sorry."

'You're sorry,' Kane thought. 'Sorry you didn't do this earlier so you could move onto a new way of destroying me. You're nothing but a bully, Rob.'

Kane had been dealing with bullies all his life – kids in grade school, Kent Abrams, all of D-Generation X, but especially that Triple H. Triple H. . .no one was more cold and cruel. He was every little rich boy who ever made fun of the different kid, who ever made that kid's life hell on earth. Kane could physically crush him like an ant and yet he always seemed to come out on top. That was they way of the world – the rich have the power, have the strength and crush those less fortunate, shove them in the dirt time and time again until they don't know where that dirt ends and they start. Kane often wondered what it would have been like if he and Triple H's lives were reversed, if he could see the scars upon Triple H's face and watch that smug smirk of his go up in flames. What he wouldn't give to light that fire. 

He rose slowly from his chair and headed towards his rucksack, dropping to his haunches to search through it and standing again once he found what he was looking for.

"Kane! Come on, open the door."

Kane squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore Rob's voice. 

'Why can't you just leave me alone?' he pleaded silently, desperately.

Only when Rob's voice stopped could he open his eyes again and look upon the item he held in his hand. It was a Triple H action figure in full ring attire, smug smirk in place. Kane scowled at it and, with a fierce grunt, tore off its right arm. Good, but not enough. He wanted to destroy Triple H, wanted to watch him burn. 

He'd always thought it was strange that hotels gave away matchbooks. Didn't the owners know that matches made fire and fire could burn? Kane was surprised there hadn't been more arson attacks on hotels, because surely they were tempting fate. He found the matches and broke one off, striking it against the pack as he kept the action figure tucked into his wrist. Two strikes and a flame, a warm glow. For a couple of seconds, Kane just stared at the fire, mesmerized by its still contained power. To control that power and set it loose. . .

Blinking, he set down the matchbook and held up the figure, moving the flame to touch its face. He kept it there, spellbound by the fire and the smell of burning plastic. Burn, burn.

"Uh. . ." he grunted as the flame touched his fingers, burning them slightly and causing him to reflexively shake his the match until it died. No matter. Hopefully, the damage was already done. 

Rubbing his thumb and index finger together to try and ease the pain, he glanced at the action figure and let out a little cry of anguished surprise. Other than some very minor charring, the figure was intact. Obviously the flame hadn't been hot enough, or hadn't lasted long enough to melt the plastic. This time, like every time, Triple H had won. He'd always win, people like him always did – the cruel people, the heartless people, the bullies. . .

The memories of days gone by, so long suppressed. So many nightmares, all joining into one screaming, terrifying reality. This was his life! He had lived it, did live it, would live it and it would always be this way, always. No one could save him – no one from the scrapbook had; they'd all left him in the end, all betrayed him. There was no one here, no one. 

Kane began to thrust his hand through his hair only to remember the horror, that he'd shaved himself bald. Long, pretty hair was for people like Rob. He was a monster, a monster. He fell to his knees, letting out a helpless wail.

"Kane? Dude, I'm still here. Just open up, okay?"

Kane said nothing, he just buried his face in his hands and went on moaning mournfully, unable to do more than that.

"Let me in, man," Rob called. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about everything, but I really care about you and. . ."

"GO AWAY!" Kane screamed, his booming voice echoing through the room before the sound subsided into nothingness, staying that way until Rob spoke again, much more quietly than before.

"Okay, I'll go. See you round, dude."

"Arrrgghh," Kane groaned, trying desperately to free his mind from the softness of Rob's voice, the pleasant tones. He had to forget about Rob, had to shed him from his memory, just like all those others. The Big Red Machine was destined to walk alone, as it had been, as it would be. The past meant nothing, because it always repeated. The past was dead, because it lived on. It was dead, as dead as Kane's mom, as the canary, as Katie, as his friendship with Rob. Rob. . .

Panting, he rushed to the door and threw it open. No one was there. Rob was gone. The door slammed shut with a deafening crash. Now, once and for all, Rob was gone. For a moment there, Kane had actually thought he might stay, actually thought he really might care. But he was gone, just like all the others, like everything else Kane had dared to love. Yes, Kane had loved, many times, but no one had loved him back enough to stay. Never. Who could love a monster?

He reached for the scrapbook, which was still open to the page with Rob's picture. He hadn't crossed it yet, hadn't been able to do it because just at the back of his mind was the thought that Rob was different to all the rest. Of course he wasn't, but Kane had wanted so badly to believe that it was true. Kane gave his trust far too easily. Every time he thought it might be different, cleaned the slate, buried the past, but each time it was exactly the same and he got hurt. But he'd trust again, he couldn't help himself, and he'd be hurt, over and over, so much hurt. He didn't want to hurt, but he couldn't stop it. It was out of his control and untouchable, the destiny of his life. No more pain, it had to stop. No more trust, no more betrayal.

He turned to the front of the scrapbook and tore out the picture of his mom and dad. This picture was all that was left. No more memories, no more life. He crumpled the picture and dropped it at his feet. One by one, he tore the pages from the book – the puppy, the bird, Undertaker and Sara, Katie, Tori, X-Pac, Terri – they were all scrunched up and dropped out of his life.

Kane stepped from the ring of paper he'd created, heading over to grab the matchbook as well as something he'd picked up at a gas station on his way from the arena to here. He stepped back into the ring of paper and unscrewed the lid of the item, throwing it aside. Then he tipped it and watched as the odorous liquid oozed out, covering the paper, drowning it, destroying it. Finally, the can was empty. All he needed now was a match.

*     *     *     *

"This is it," Rob announced, indicating the door. 

Rosey glanced from Rob to the door and back again. "You want me to bust it in?"

"Yeah," Rob grinned. 

"No way I'm paying for the busted door," Rosey grumbled. 

"Don't worry, man, I got it. I just gotta get in there, see he's okay."

"And how much is this worth to you?" Rosey prompted.

"Man, with your strength, you could do it with your eyes closed. Twenty bucks."

"You're kidding, right?" Rosey muttered. "Twenty bucks don't buy my lunch. Fifty."

"Okay, fifty," Rob agreed. "Now, can you get us in there?"

  
He danced from foot to foot anxiously. When he'd come by earlier, Kane had sounded like he was crying and that thought just blew Rob's mind. He felt compelled to go in there, talk to Kane, try and cheer him up. Try to get him to realize what Austin had been telling him earlier – that he was loved, loved by the fans. And of course the fans represented humanity, people in general. He had to make Kane see that, that it didn't matter what he looked like, people liked him for the ass-kicking legend he was.

But then talking to Kane had never been easy. Rob knew it was only recently that Kane had begun to talk at all and even now he refused to discuss the past. What had happened in the past to make him the way he was? Of course, Rob knew the rumors – a fire had killed Kane's mother and left him severely disfigured. And all that Katie Vick bullshit that had surfaced last year. Whether it was true or false, Kane wasn't saying and it didn't matter how many times Rob tried to get him to talk about it. He'd buried his past so deeply that he refused to acknowledge it anymore. He said the past was dead and that was how it had to be. Rob had tried to argue that the past could never die, that it was just as much a part of a person as their present or future, but Kane refused to see it that way. For Kane, life was a day to day thing. One day ended and was buried in the past while a new one surfaced, to be lived a moment at a time. Kane didn't make plans, didn't imagine where he'd be five years or even five days down the line. Rob wanted to tell him that time was just an entity that connected experiences you had, and some experiences were good and some were bad, and each could be viewed individually, but it was only when you looked at them together that you could see the wonderful uniqueness that made an individual. Kane was one awesome individual and it didn't matter how bad his experiences had been, because they had made Kane the person he was today, the person who Rob cared about so much he couldn't even start thinking about it without seriously messing with his mind.

"Yearrrrgh!" Rosey roared, crashing into the door one more time. It gave, cracked open and Rob bounced on the balls of his feet, ready to leap in there. 

"Hey, where's my fifty bucks?" Rosey demanded as Rob dove into the room. 

"You'll get it later. . ." Rob cut off with a startled cry. "Kane! Oh my God, Kane!"

  
"Holy shit!" Rosey bellowed.

In front of them was a wall of fire and in the middle, standing like a seven foot Guy Fawkes doll, was Kane, himself calling out as he writhed in pain.

"Oh God, Kane, oh God!" Rob went on screaming, terrified by the sight before him. He had no idea what to do, couldn't do anything as his best friend was burned alive.

Over the whoosh of the fire came a louder hiss as Rosey worked the small fire extinguisher. Foam rained down on Kane, who was screaming just as loudly as Rob, small flames still lapping at his legs.

"Get him under a cold shower while I call 911," Rosey ordered, going for the phone on the nightstand.

But Rob could only stare open mouthed at where a semiconscious Kane was teetering on his feet and wailing in agony.

"Move it, Van Dam!" Rosey shouted and Rob sprang forward, just as Kane fell. The big man gave a piercing yelp as Rob caught him and began dragging him towards the bathroom. Kane writhed in Rob's arms, crying out at every touch as Rob whimpered quietly and hauled him the rest of the way before releasing him in the shower, where he began to crumple to the floor.

"Whoa, oh God, Kane!" Rob cried out, trying to support the much larger man as he turned the cold tap and water began gushing from the showerhead. "Stay up, Kane, oh God, please stay up." 

Kane was breathing uneasily, rushes of air managing to burst through between his moans.

"Rob," he gasped out, his eyes closed and head lolling over Rob's shoulder. "You. . .came back. . .for. . .me. . ."

"Course I came back, dude," Rob replied, his words short and panicked. "Why couldn't you have opened the door? Why'd you do this to yourself?"

"Rob. . .you. . .care. . ." Kane whispered hoarsely and then he went deadweight and slumped in Rob's arms.

"Oh, no, no, no," Rob cried, bouncing down to his haunches and gathering Kane up again. "Kane, Kane, wake up," he pleaded desperately, patting Kane in the face. "Please, Kane, you gotta wake up."

Kane's breathing was shaky, irregular and he cried out with every gasp. 

"Rob. . ." he managed, voice hoarse and face contorted in agony. "Fire. . ."

"Why, Kane, why?" Rob cried. "Why'd you light yourself on fire? Why'd you do that to yourself? Why'd you do that to me? I need you, Kane. I need you." Tears were streaming from his eyes, blending with the icy water that plummeted down on them both.

"Trust. . ." Kane whispered, his voice ever weaker and his body turning from writhing to trembling. "Care. . ."

Rob was cradling Kane's head, fingers stroking the hardened features and the scars that spoke the stories of the past. 

"I do care about you," he nodded insistently. "I love you, man. I love you, so you can't go. You've gotta stay. You gotta keep fighting, just like always. Stay, Kane, stay. Please stay."

"Rob. . ." Kane mouthed, his head dipping lower. "No. . .more. . .pain. . ."

And then the sound of rushing water, nothing else.

"No!" Rob shouted, his eyes wide with fear. "No, Kane, no. You gotta hold on. Come on, Kane. Hold on, please! No!" he sobbed, turning his face up into the water. "No!"

Suddenly some people burst into the bathroom and from there everything happened so fast. Kane was being put onto  a stretcher by some of them and others were asking Rob questions, questions he didn't know if he could answer. All he could seem to say was that Kane was his partner and he couldn't die, they had to save him, had to bring him back. He followed the people out into the main room and was greeted with even more people – Rosey, Austin, JR, a few other guys he didn't recognize.

 The middle of the room was a charred mess of blackness and extinguisher foam. A mess, a gigantic mess. They were taking Kane away from here, taking him away. Tears still flowed down Rob's face and he was shaking, from the coldness of the water that drenched him and from fear, from shock. They were taking Kane away, taking him to get help.

"I'll get Kane's things!" he announced to no one in particular. Too many people were talking for him to be heard anyway. So he began to look around for anything that might belong to Kane. There wasn't much here. A rucksack and a gymbag seemed to be all the luggage Kane had brought. A rucksack, a gym bag and a goddamn can of gasoline! Why the hell had Kane done it? Why? Why? And why had Rob let him, why had he left when he'd heard Kane crying? Why hadn't he tried to bust the door in himself or called someone, anyone? Someone must have been able to stop this – why hadn't they tried?

And then he saw the picture, just sitting there on the desk. It was one he knew well; he sold hundreds of them at signings all over the country. This one was pasted to a different page, in a book. . .like a child's scrapbook.

"Rob."

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder, but when he turned it was just JR, all solemness. 

"Where's Kane?" Rob demanded.

"They're taking him to the hospital but. . ." JR began before Rob cut him off.

"They've gone already? Where'd they go? Can I catch them up?"

"Rob, just slow down," JR advised.

"Slow down?" Rob cried incredulously. "I saw. . .he. . .Kane. . ." He couldn't finish, falling to his haunches as sobs wracked his body. 

He felt JR's hand on his shoulder again and tried to shrug it away, but the older man held firm.

"Rob, you know there wasn't anything you or anyone else could do to stop this," JR told him. "Kane's never been the most stable person. . ."

"Well, would you be?" Rob snapped, glowering up at JR. "If you'd gone through everything Kane's gone through.. . ." He trailed off with a distressed shake of his head.

"But when someone decides to set himself on fire, you can't stop that, ain't no one who can stop that," JR stated.

"You're talking like it's Kane's fault," Rob argued. "Kane didn't do this to himself. It was people. People like me."

"You can't go talking like that, Rob," JR told him. "This all had nothing to do with you."

"No?" Rob challenged. "Look at this." 

He yanked the scrapbook out from under his arm and opened it up to show JR. "He's got a picture of me in here, and the other pages have been torn out, so I guess he made a scrapbook of me, only then I let him down so he tore the pages out, covered them in gas and used them to set himself on fire. I hurt him so bad he wanted to die. I killed him, JR. I killed him."

"Rob, you gotta get a hold of yourself," JR told him. "Kane's got doctors looking after him, he's in the best hands. And you didn't do this. Take a look here." He held out a piece of balled up paper.

Frowning and still sniffling, Rob took it and gingerly unscrunched it.

"You know Kane used some paper and an accelerant to start the fire," JR informed him. "Well, Rosey found that one lying nearby. The flames hadn't got to it."

"Who is she?" Rob asked unsteadily.

"Her name's Tori," JR explained. "She used to work in the WWE a few years back and she once had a relationship with Kane. From all accounts it ended badly."

"So what's with the cross?" Rob questioned.

"I guess you'd have to ask Kane that," JR stated gravely. "Rob, Kane's always been a seriously disturbed individual and we've all been seeing that resurfacing over the last couple of weeks. Something like this was always gonna happen, and if Kane hadn't done it to himself, he would've done it to someone else. He could have done it to you."

"JR," Rob began, his voice shaking. "I love Kane. I love him and I should've been here for him. I should've stopped this. We all should've. If any one of us had thought for just one minute. . . We're to blame for this. We're all to blame. We could've stopped it, but we didn't. It's our fault." He glowered down at the picture in his hand. "It's your fault!" he cried. "And you don't even care!"

Suddenly, he sprang forward and raced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Everyone else was in the other room, so he was alone.

Breathing heavily and with his hazy eyes fixed on the photograph of Tori, he reached down into the pocket of his jeans and found his cigarette lighter. Click, click, a flick of a switch and a spark becomes flame. Touch it to paper and flame becomes fire. Rob released the paper, letting it drop into the sink below even as the fire spread, blackening Tori's features, turning her to charcoal. One little moment, one little spark. A picture of a woman and the world of a man. Up in flames.

THE END 


End file.
